The Sauk Centre herald. (Sauk Centre, Stearns County, Minn.) 1886-current, 1887-07-14
THE CURE OF CUCUGNAN.

Every year, at Candlemas, the provin-
cial poets published in Avignon a gay lit
tie book filed up to the brim with beauti-
full verses and pretty stories. That of this
year has just reached me, and find it q
delightful little tale that am going to
try and transcribe for you by abridging it
little Parisians, hold out your baskets.
1t is with the finest provincial meal flour
that you are going to be served this time.
The Abbot Martin was cure of Cucug-
nan. Excellent as bread, sterling as
gold, he loved his Cucugnanards with
paternal devotion; for him his Cucugnan
would have been a paradise upon earth, if
only the Cucugnanards had given him a
little more satisfaction. But, alas! spiders
spun their webs in his confessional, and,
OH fair yesterday, the holy waters lay
untouched in the pyX. The good priest
was heartbroken about it, and was always
asking grace of God that he might not die
until he had led back to the fold his scat
tered flock.
Now, you shall hear how his prayer
was heard. One Sunday, after the gospel,
NJ. Martin assembled the pulpit.
"My brethren, said he, ''believe me or
not, as you will; the other night 1 found
myself, miserable sinner that am, at the
gate of paradise.
Il knocked; st. Peter opened to me.
"'Aha! Is it you, my good NJ. Martini
said he to me. What good wind blows
you hithcr? What can do for your
Good st. Peter, you who hold the
great book and the key, could you tell me
IF am not too curious-how many Gu
cugnanards you have in paradises'
"T can refuse nothing to you, NJ. Mar
tin; sit down, and let us look into the
matter together
And st. Peter took up his great book,
opened it, and put on his spectacles.
Let us see; Cucugnan, did you say'
Cu-Cu-Cucugnan. Ali here we are.
Cucugnan. Why, my dear NJ. Martin,
the page is a perfect blank. Not a soul
upon it. There are no more Cucugnan-
ards here than there are fishbones in a
turkey hem
"'What! No one here from Cucugnan'
Not one? 1t is impossible! Look again,
please
"'Not one. holy sir. Look for yourself,
If you think am joking
"'Woe is mer stamped my feet, and
with c.asped hands cried for pity.
"Then said st. Peter: Really, NJ. Mar
tin, you must not distress yourself in this
fashion, or you will bring on, n serious fit
of apepleXy. After-all, it is not your
fault. Your Cucugnanafds, do you see,
arc surely undergoing little quarantine
in ,'urgatory.'
q. All, in the name of charity, mighty
st. Pet,'r, enable me at least to see them,
to see anu to console theElr
willingly, my friend. Stay. Whip
on these shoe; the roads are not over
good. There, th.t will do nicely. Now
walk away, walk away straight before
YOU. Do yos see yoEder, down there Mt
the turninge You will sud there a silver
door studded all over with black crosses
to the right hand side. You will knock
and they will open to you. Tata! Take
care of yourself and keep up your spirits.
"And walked and walked on and on.
What hunt it was! 1 feel all goose flesh
only to think of it. A little footpath full
of brambles, blazing carbuncles and hiss
ing serpents led me to the silver door.
'Tap! Tap!
"sWho knocks?' called out to me q
hoarse and mournful voice.
"'The cure of Cucugnan.'
"'OfY-
"'Of Cucugnan.'
"'Ah! Come in
'1 entered. A grand angel, with wings
as somber as night, clad in a robe as bril-
liant as day, with diamond key hanging
from his girdle, was writing-scratch,
scratch-in huge book, much larger than
that of ST. Peter.
"'Now, then; what is it you want'' OBJ
served the angel.
"'Beautiful angel of God, wish to
know-I am very curious, pcrhaps-if you
have here the Cucugnanards"
"'The Cucugnanards-the people of
Cucugnan; because it is who am their
prior
"'Ah! The Abbot Martin, is it not?'
"At your service, NJ. Angel
"'You said Cucugnan, didn't your
And the angel opened his book and ran
through the pages, wetting his finger in
order to better turn over the leaves.
"'Cucugnan,' said he, as he heaved q
deep sigh M. Martin, we have in pur-
gatory no one from Cucugnan.'
"sJesul Marie! Joseph! no one from
Cucngnan in purgatory! Oh, great God!
where are they then'
"sEhl holy man, why they are in para
disel Where the deuce else would you
have them be-?
"sBut come from it-from paradise
"'You come from it'll WellF
We'll! They are rot there! All,
blessed mother of angelsl'
"'What would you have, NJ. Cure? If
they are neither in paradise nor yet in
purgatory there is no other alternative
they are I'M
"'Holy cross! Jesu, son of David! Woe,
woe, woe! is it possiblel Could it be q
falsehood of the great st. Peter? Yet
did not hear the cock crow! Woe is ME!
How could 1 go to paradise if my Cucug-
nanards were not there, too?
"'Listen to me, my poor M. Martin.
Since you wish at any cost to be assured
of all this and to sec with your own eyes
!, ow the matter stands, take this footpath
an run along tiff you know how to
nm You will find to the left great
gatev qy. There they will give you all in
formal ion. God grant it your
uAnd the angel shut the door.
ssIt wa 9 long footpath, all paved with
red embers-. staggered as if was drunk;
at each stem i stumbled; was bathed in
every hair on my body had
its separate DIR, Up of sweat-and l painted
with thirst But struly-thanks to the
sandals which the COOL st. Peter had lent
mel did not burn my tteet.
'sWhen I had hob6led along some way
I saw to my left hand do or-no, q Sate-
way-an enormous gateway yawning
open, like the month of a vast furnace.
Oh! my children, what sight! Ihere no
one asked for my name; there was no reg
lister. 1t is in patches, and through tne
wide open door, that one entei . there. my
brethren; just as on Sunday yCu go troop
ing into the wine shops
II sweated great drops, and vet was
benumbed, shivered. Ny hair 5000 on
end. smelt the burning Of yaass